


Be careful what you wish for

by rokklagio



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: I mean of course, M/M, Sibling Incest, but you've been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokklagio/pseuds/rokklagio
Summary: And gather your thoughts upBut keep 'em in your headBe careful what you wish forBe careful what you dreamThey let you sing your songs, sonBut they’ll never hear you scream1988-1991





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story a few months ago. I think it worked for me as a mean to rationalise Noel and Liam's early relationship through Noel's point of view, but then I got carried away and wrote too much. I think it's always necessary to point out that this is a work of fiction and in no way claims to be real and truthful.  
> (There are some lines in Supersonic that really struck me, so I took the liberty to include them here as well because they fit just right)  
> (I also took some liberty in how Noel's ex-girlfriends are depicted in Oasis biographies... just because)

 

 

_1988_

_“Geminis have the tendency to ride the roller coaster of life, spiralling skywards one minute and plunging into lows the next. If you can keep up with these vibes, though, you will have one helluva thrill!”_

“No shit,” commented Noel as he turned the page, not bothering to read the rest. He tightened his grip on the cheap paper with a growing irritation he was sure it was going to spoil that peaceful morning. He got to the horoscope and still couldn’t find City’s results on the newspaper. Someone had probably taken out the pages and left Noel with a synthesis of his whole being there, printed on the thin, gray surface, that stated people born in late May were apparently supposed to be mental freaks. He’d thought it could have been Paul that took the pages out, but the way the newspaper had almost been ripped apart made him change his mind: Paul was careful with the sports pages, it could only have been Liam.

It was an exceptionally good, sunny day outside. As Noel closed the newspaper and went to turn on the tv he could feel the side of his face burn with the warmth that April bore along with its awfully long days of rain.

“Good morning.”

A sleepy voice preceded what Noel thought was going to be a grumpy and defensive Liam (“I didn’t take your stupid pages, you cunt!”) but he realised soon enough it was Paul.

“Morning,” he grumbled to his older brother as he watched him steal his newspaper from under his nose, barely concealing that sort of disappointment he felt after finding out he wasn’t gonna have a morning fight with Liam.

There was something burning inside of him: he couldn’t pinpoint which kind of feeling that was, but it was leaving him frustrated and electric, ready to fight whichever cunt dared to cross him, and as he loosened the grip on the tv remote he started to consider the fact that he and Liam were morphing into the same person. Liam, acting elusive and spending the night out, leaving Noel to cover up for him. Not that he asked him to do that, but Noel didn’t have the heart to tell his mother that Liam’s nights were now made mostly of alcohol and coke.  
He could feel the blood boil in his veins, with nothing to blame it on except for the humiliation of lying to his mother for his younger brother’s badly timed deeds. When his mind lingered on intrusive thoughts (“ _who is he with_?”) he tried to feel relief, he forced himself to call the lump in his throat relief: it was the only thing that could make him pretend (for thirty seconds, perhaps one whole minute) that he was a normal brother, after all.

“Where the fuck’s the sports page gone?!” he heard Paul shout from the couch.

 

 _Tidy your books up_  
_Put 'em under your bed_

  
  
When he was five, he remembered asking his mother for a baby sister.

Well, he didn’t really recall himself doing that, but he grew up with his mother telling that same tale to their relatives in county Mayo whenever they gathered around the fire to share stories and sing a few songs: when she told him that the baby was a boy and his name was William, a young Noel looked at the bundle of white blankets with absolute hate and left the room in tears.  
So it was funny to see the same happen to Liam, eighteen years later, after Noel told him he was going to move in with his girlfriend. He was kneeling on the floor, busy packing his bags and his boxes, so he couldn’t really see the tears, but the way Liam’s voice trembled when he shouted, “fuck off!” to Paul as he stormed out of their room was all the evidence Noel needed.

 

*

It was an interesting game, the one he and Liam had been playing in the last couple of years.  
Perhaps longer than that, Noel was not too sure, but it was an interesting game all the same. At times it got boring, especially when Liam decided Noel’s affection was unconditional and his time unlimited; those were the times when he decided he had enough of their sick, silly game.  
The way Liam bounced so easily from brother to lover in Noel’s mind was surprisingly fast, and unsurprisingly volatile.

He felt that Liam had no category in Noel’s mind that he could fall into: no place was big and flexible enough to allow him in.

The problem with Liam was, and it will probably always be, that even though they shared more than blood, they were on different planes of existence the whole time. Or at least it looked like Liam did everything not to put himself in Noel’s shoes to try and understand him: what he did instead was get mad at his brother for not following him down the rabbit hole but daring to keep them both on a healthy, rational line, which Liam seemed to reject with all his heart.   
A seventeen-year-old boy who should know better than to kiss his own brother and let him touch those patches of skin where the sun doesn’t shine, where it’s soft and immaculate, where Noel likes to think he’s been the only one that’s been there, even though he knows he hasn’t.   
His younger brother, who wouldn’t even check if Mam and Paul were still in the living room before leaving a trail of kisses on Noel’s neck as he put the dishes under the faucet, he refused to play by the rules of the adults’ world.

“ _What’s normal gonna do? What’s normal good for?”_

Why Paul never had a part in this was beyond Noel’s comprehension: they had the same upbringing, lived in the same places, received the same number of violent outbursts from the same father, went to the same speech therapist at the same time.   
And yet Paul grew up to be normal, never went after his younger brothers, or peeked at his mates when they changed in the dirty, claustrophobic locker room after they played football.

He fought against the idea for a while; then he accepted that he was most probably the weirdo of the family.   
Out of everyone else in his family.   
Out of all the dysfunctional families in fucking Manchester. 

  
  
_And gather your thoughts up  
But keep 'em in your head_


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
_Be careful what you wish for_  
_Be careful what you dream_

  
It all began when Noel first discovered drugs, and the Beatles.   
He was fourteen and drugs were a ride where Liam wasn’t allowed on, a middle ground where Noel didn’t have to be the perfect brother, the surrogate father, the guardian of little Liam, _poor little Liam, how is he gonna know how to tell good and evil apart, if Noel is not there to show him?  
_ So, his journey of self-discovery (or lack of it) through drugs got him partially out of trouble, kept him around older boys (and most times around older men) and built a barrier between him and his brother: “ _You are not old enough to do this_ ”, “ _You can’t come along, you’re only ten_ ” “ _What are you doing up past your bedtime? I’m gonna tell mam!_ ”.

By that time he had started listening to punk rock, and months later he began stealing Paul’s guitar every now and then so that he could learn to play some tunes on it.  
One time when he was playing football he noticed some hippies lying around, just a couple of yards from there, playing the Beatles. So Noel ignored his mates, went over to those older, weird looking blokes and asked them if they could teach him how to play all those songs. That day he’d also discovered how much he preferred weed over glue.

When Noel realised he was wasting time going around being a cunt when he could have been writing songs instead, he was already out of school: his attitude had to go away if he wanted to work and earn some money, and because it was just his luck his first jobs happened to be with his father.   
It was the stuff of nightmares.   
_At least I’ll be out of my mum’s hair_ , he thought, not realising she was going to be left with Liam still and, oh boy, what a piece of work the kid was. The clinginess and attachment he used to have as a kid morphed into a loud mouth and constant anger Noel had no idea where it’d steamed from. By the time Noel had his foot destroyed by a steel pipe, his brother wasn’t anymore the cute, chubby kid stuck to his mother’s hip twenty-four hours a day that Noel liked to pamper like a pet monkey—the days where he recriminated him to be born a girl were long gone—he was now a troublesome kid, possibly even worse than Noel himself. Where he would spend time alone to practice on his guitar, Liam would run around with his friends, always ready to pick a fight with someone bigger and stronger.

One time Noel had come home to a black-eyed Liam sat in the middle of the living room.   
Their mother stood beside him, rummaging in a box to find plasters for the split lip the kid sported with a frown on his face. Paul was sitting next to their mother, eyes focused on the telly.   
Noel joined him on the couch, not a word except a quiet ‘hullo’ murmured to his mam. He could feel Liam’s angry eyes fixate at the back of his head as if he’d been the one to do the beating.

Was Noel supposed to be outraged that his little brother got beaten up by some other kid from Burnage? He hated watching his mum get slapped and his brother humiliated by that shitty excuse for a human being he had for a father, his blood could only boil in his veins to see his little brother’s face opened by some fucker he shared none of the aforementioned blood with, but in those days, Noel was sure that ignoring all kinds of strong feelings towards Liam was the best decision he could take. Because his brother was no longer a kid.  
He had grown, now they were almost the same height—Noel was still a few inches taller, thank you very much—and the kid’s face had morphed into high cheekbones and a fine, long nose. He was still a skinny kid with short, chubby fingers though, but his blue, round eyes were now fiery-hot, constantly looking for trouble.

As Noel grew older he started to realise he’d spent at least 90% of his life trying to avoid any kind of eye contact with Liam: one of the reasons why he was always wearing shades (beside the drugs, of course) and why he would fidget and make acid comments to detach himself as much as possible from anything that could link him back to Liam in more ways than a brotherly bond or music partnership. And that was why Liam would fixate his eyes on him for hours, waiting for Noel to reciprocate in any way.

He was waiting for an answer to a question Noel feared to hear.

_Do you love me, Noel?_

Thank god Liam just stuck to angry looks and childish blows. Noel couldn’t have asked for anything better.

_They let you sing your songs, son  
But they'll never hear you scream_


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
_Button your coat up_  
_Take shelter from the rain_

Whenever Liam took his attention somewhere else, Noel would find himself sneaking glances at the back of his brother’s head, enjoying these rare moments where Liam’s eyes were not staring back at him with an inquisitive frown, but lost somewhere else, leaving the kid with his guard down and Noel free to contemplate his person.

Sometimes, when Noel lay in his bed with eyes wide open and his brain on its own ride, he’d imagine himself in another world, where everything is exactly the same, but he and Liam are not brothers.

But it’s such a weird thought, Liam had been his brother since he was five, now he was twenty. Even if he remembered a time where Liam wasn’t in the picture, it confuses itself with memories of his childhood, when he used to pick up Liam in his arms to lay him down on the couch, pretending he was preparing him for his bed time. So he would change the scenery: he no longer had a brother, but a sister. Sometimes she was called Liam; some nights Lisa, like his mother would have wanted; some other nights he just made up other names he could associate with this ridiculous image he made up of Liam with small, perky breasts, longer hair and a vinyl black miniskirt. In his fantasies she still sported the same angry look, but her heavy-lidded eyes revealed a softness Noel only knew because he could spot it whenever boy Liam looked at their mother, or when he waved back to little children on the street, or when Noel caught him listening when he played his guitar in the darkness of their shared room. In his dreams she would kiss him on the lips and hold his hand. He would pick her up and lay her down on the windowsill, spread her legs with his hand and then rub his fingers against the soft cleft concealed behind a pair of white knickers. He could hear her whimpers ring in his ears. Then he would come in his hand, and he didn’t feel bad because her name was Lyla, she wasn’t his brother and she didn’t exist, anyway.

He would cry some silent tears, some other times he would bawl his eyes out, but there was so much you could do when the object of your tears was sleeping in the bed next to yours. Those were the nights where his brain spewed the same thought over and over again.

_I need to get the fuck outta here._

 

*

He was in north London when he ran into Diane, two exact years after they called off their engagement.   
He was there with Paul and their friends to see City play against the Gunners at Highbury, and he went to buy some booze before the match started. It was good to get away from Manchester once in a while, but if Muhammad won’t come to Manchester, then Manchester will surely be all up his fucking arse, Noel thought, because he could recognize that bouncy blonde head anywhere.   
He tried to hide in the drink aisle, but of course she spotted him right away as well. God, they were going to get _married_ , after all.

“Noel?”

Her tone was one of surprise, pleasantly so, and he pretended to be pleasantly surprised as well.

“Hey Diane. Funny to see you here.”

Her hair was short now, and she had a white shirt with black trousers on. It almost didn’t look like her without her flowery cocktail dresses (which he now knew they were cocktail dresses because Louise told him so, because he knew fuck all about fashion).

“I live here now!” she said, perhaps too excited, and as she crossed her arms he caught the sight of a silver ring on her finger. “What are you doing here? Got sick of Manchester?”

_Yeah, but I wouldn’t move in fucking Highbury of all London places now would I._

“Nah, I’m just with my brother and some mates for tonight’s game.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve brought Liam?”

He furrowed his. “The fuck I would. It’s my older brother, Paul. Liam’s still too young to go anywhere this far. I don’t think he even knows how to take a train.”

Which was what Noel hoped for when Louise mentioned he could move in with her in India House. Far enough for Liam, far enough from Liam.

“Oh, I think he does,” she commented with a laugh. Noel mirrored her and crossed his arms as well.

“What do you mean? You’ve seen him here in London?”

“What? Oh no, no. I saw him when I went to visit me mam. He was on Canal Street, hanging around all by himself. Probably looking for trouble, like always.” She probably still remembered Liam climbing a ladder up to their room just to see them shag.

He raised his eyebrows, not knowing what to say. What the fuck was his brother doing in gay bars? He felt himself getting angry, without knowing why, so he smiled to suppress his anger.

“Well, what were you doing there? Hen night?” he sneered, trying not to sound sour but failing completely in doing so.

Her eyes narrowed, but her smile didn’t falter. She has never been one up for confrontations, but her silence was eloquent enough.

“Bye Noel. I’ll see you around.”

He saw her walk up to the cashier and then leave in a white Fiesta. On the driver’s seat another woman kissed her on the cheek, then they drove away.

 

Maybe Liam wanted to see if Noel was just like him, or if he was just like Noel, but he could see that Liam had started to notice Noel’s fleeting looks whenever he was watching the telly, the sudden awkwardness those times Liam got out of the bath, or the way he would smile at him when no one was watching, just like when they were younger. Mostly, the angry comments Noel spewed at him during their arguments were now replaced with long silences, as if he had to tame a bigger beast than Liam, and Liam knew that, so he pushed, pushed, pushed, until he reached Noel’s breaking point.

Funny thing was, he was piss drunk when it happened, and he had just pissed all over Noel’s new stereo.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he heard Noel’s voice in the dark explode in anger, and then the lights were on, and Liam was standing near Noel’s bed with a hand against the wall and one on his dick.  
The amount of alcohol and weed in his blood stream probably made him little conscious of the trousers crumpled up just below his naked butt cheeks.

“Did you just piss all over my new stereo, you fuckin’ cunt?”

Liam tried to focus his eyes on Noel’s furious face.

“Now it’s gonna sound better,” he managed to reply with a sly, crooked grin.   
Before he knew it, he felt his head hit the wall and Noel’s hands around his throat, fingers pushing against the carotid, his nose merely inches away from his face.

“Do you have _any idea_ how much I paid for it?” he tightened the grip on his neck and Liam’s hands flew up around Noel’s wrist, trying in vain to ease it up.

There was something in their closeness, in Noel’s wild rage, in those unruly instincts that were part of his DNA, their DNA, nothing you could to suppress them, the fact that the more Noel hated his dad, the more he looked like him - it was getting hard to breathe - the fact that Noel had many buttons and Liam had just as many fingers, the fact that Liam triggered something in Noel which he could have ignored, and the way Liam let out a soft, needy whimper when Noel’s fingers slid around his neck to put more pressure, Noel frozen in his place as he watched Liam’s open, dirty mouth and his half-closed eyes stare back at him, no anger or resentment in his little brother but just a lustful look, a sexual, drunk need for his brother’s warmth, a desire for his hands to be around more places than his neck.

Noel released his grip on Liam and stepped back, no other noises in the air as they were still holding their breath. If they lowered their eyes, they would have seen how hard they both were.

  
_They want you to be like them_  
_But you can never be the same_


	4. Chapter 4

  
  
_'Cause you're standing on the outside_  
_They'll never let you in_

Noel’s journey of sexual discovery was different, slower than Liam’s own, who was with his hands up handful of skirts since he had been twelve. Noel had always been a late bloomer, a no-bloomer really. He would spend a couple of nights a week in some of those clubs that were insanely popular among gay blokes, where the music was utter shite but where Noel would stay anyway, with some gin and tonic in his hand, coke up his nostrils as he suppressed Morrissey’s lyrics ironically echoing in his brain.

He loved when he could shut off his brain. No thoughts, no affliction, no shame. Nobody was thinking: everyone was on some drugs anyway, be it molly or special k, and Noel loved that. Then when he got full-time into the Madchester scene there was a point in his life where he spent more time at the Haçienda or at the International 2 than asleep in his bed.

It was his 21st birthday when he went to see the Stone Roses play at the International 2.

He gulped down his beer by the end of Sally Cinnamon and went to get another drink at the bar when he spotted a mop of light hair bent down on a recorder, struggling with the tapes. He ordered two gin and tonics while keeping an eye on the mysterious bootlegger and then walked over to him.

“Oi, can you give me a copy when you’re done with it?”

His brazen tone startled the guy who looked up to him, then his blue eyes fell on the offered drink.

“Yeah, sure.” He took the drink and pointed to the stage with it. “It’s been an awful gig though. Out of tune the whole time, the Roses.” He took a sip from the glass and winked at him. “Thanks mate.”

Noel furrowed his brows, pretending to ignore him. “I thought they were great. Are you going to see the Inspiral Carpets next week?”

The guy smiled. “Yeah. Kinda have to. I’m in, like, the band. So… yeah.”

It’s there that he met Graham for the first time, and then Graham introduced him to Clint a week later. Clint was older than Graham, certainly wiser, with a longer bob cut than Graham’s, weirder clothes, and an impressive knowledge of music and pop culture, which made Noel stick to his side as much as possible. He was mesmerised with these two guys from Oldham: older, better dressed and, most importantly, in a band. He had soon got bored with football games and followed the guys around until he found out that he was their key to the Mancunian club scene: he knew where to go, who to meet, what to ask. He would have probably acted like an overly excited kid around them if he wasn’t already used being around older men, trying to impress them. When he was a kid he hung around strangers just because they were going to teach him how to play the Beatles on his guitar; sometimes he thought it was a way for his subconscious to make up for his shitty father’s absence, but with Graham and Clint he learned, later on, that it was more about making himself essential in other people’s lives. When he noticed how much those older guys were relying on him when they got around Manchester it gave him a powerful feeling: something set fire to his brain and made him feel invincible.

_It began with Clint, but it ended with Liam._

 

“You’re mates with Clint, right.”

He once got asked this question by another one of Clint’s mates, so he said that yeah, he was in fact one of Clint’s mates as well. That’s why they both were at a Carpets’ gig. “You’re lucky,” the invasive stranger told him as he lit up his cigarette and ignored everyone else in the club in favour of Noel’s attention. Noel hugged himself through the oversized sweater he was wearing and shrugged, too drunk and too high to actually care about his surroundings, but the way the guy remarked how lucky he was had rubbed him the wrong way.

“And why’s that,” he asked cautiously but the guy, clearly well intentioned, kept on talking with the same upbeat tone.

“Clint has his own production thing going on, so he basically knows everyone in the scene around here. Are you working with him on anything?”

Noel blinked at that. He didn’t know if auditioning to be Clint’s band singer would have meant he got to work with Clint on anything, but the guy needn’t know. He just shook his head at the question, followed by a weird silence as they smoked. Then the guy, probably unsettled by the quietness opened his mouth once again.

“Clint is a great guy. A bit weird at times, granted, but he is an amazing guy. And, y’know, if he finds you interesting it’s even better.” Noel furrowed his thick brows together.

“What d’you mean?”

The guy got closer, stepped on the butt of his cigarette and his voice suddenly turned into something like a whisper.

“If Clint takes a liking to you, then you are settled. No need to go beg the gaffer or anything like that,” he briefly looked Noel in the eyes and added, “’m not saying you’re on the dole or something. But he can always sort you out. D’you know what I mean?”

Noel understood little of what that guy was sharing with him, but at the same time he got a feeling of unease, because he didn’t like to hear things about people without having made up his mind about them first. However, he got the chance to realise what the guy was hinting at when he got rejected when he auditioned to be the Carpets’ new singer (granted, he laughed at most of their lyrics for how cheesy they sounded, so that might have played a part as well). He moped around a little bit, told Liam to fuck off probably at some point, then Clint came up to him the day after his awful audition, bought him a beer at the nearest pub as they listened together to some live folk singers in unlikely, religious silence and then he asked Noel to work as a roadie.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to lift gear all my way through England,” he answered as he downed the last bit of his second beer. He wasn’t saying no, but he believed Clint’s question was subtly pointing into another direction, and Noel wasn’t so sure he would have been able to follow him down that path. It was a weird feeling, to be able to recognize the texture but not being able to see the full picture. Clint basically sat him down in a pub and asked him to stick around for the sake of it.

Noel was no potential roadie, he knew that: he had only one working leg, skinny arms and never lifted an amp in his whole life. How was he going to be of any help to them was beyond his comprehension, but Clint was smiling even through Noel’s negativity and kept nudging him softly with his elbow. He must have known that for Noel this was his opportunity to pursue something he cared about, to steal some tricks, but for Noel it was still humiliating. He danced around the subject for a while, observing how Clint was getting comfortable talking to him, telling him about his girlfriend and his family, how he met the other guys from the band and so on. Noel listened, not feeling prone to making conversation himself, which was rare.

They were now on their third beer and Noel was beginning to feel tipsy. He had probably already told Clint he was accepting his offer, he might have done it without realising because Clint was now telling him about when they were planning to tour and how much he liked to wander around Liverpool whenever he got the chance. He told him all of this as he kept a firm hand on his thigh. Has he ever been to Liverpool? A feel of edginess dried up in Noel’s throat, so he took it as a chance to order another couple of beers. Hopefully Clint was still going to pay for these as well.

After their second round of tequila shots Noel had to go to the loo, feeling as if he was going to be sick. He stared at the mirror for minutes, perhaps hours, ignoring all the blokes moving and pissing in the stalls around him. When the last guy left he woke up from his haze and washed his hands. Only when he turned around he spotted Clint watching him, leaning against the doorframe. His long bob cut was partially covering his hazel eyes, but Noel could see he was relieved he had found him. He checked behind his back before pushing Noel inside a stall, door firmly closed behind his shoulders. Noel held his breath and watched as the older man manoeuvred him gently against the wall. He got him figured out, didn’t he? When he palmed the younger man through his jeans Clint probably knew he was going to feel his erection, and if Noel thought about pushing him away and run, he didn’t act on it. Instead, he let Clint kiss him on the lips. Tentatively, not harsh, like he was testing the grounds as well. He didn’t want to be thought as a poof though, so he closed his eyes and let Clint kiss him, but he did not respond.

Behind his lids he could only picture his father’s demonic grin; his arrogant, judging face, so close to his own, staring back at him. _Bloody queer_ he would have declared, nothing more than a snide remark for his wimpy son. No kicks or blows, he wasn’t worth any of that.

“ _If Clint takes a liking to you, then you are settled. No need to go beg the gaffer or anything like that_ ”

_“Have you ever been to Liverpool, Noel?”_

He grabbed Clint’s face and opened his own lips, allowing the older man to deepen their kiss and slid his tongue inside. He was accepting any offer, at this point.

  
  
_They'll let you play the game, son  
But they'll never let you win_


	5. Chapter 5

  
  
  
_Never let them bear witness_  
_To the tears in your eyes_

The more Clint took a liking to Noel, the more Noel hung around him, Graham and their bandmates, the more Liam got on his nerves about anything. At first it was really childish stuff Noel thought that, at almost seventeen years of age, Liam would have gone past caring now, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He would have called it jealousy, if he only understood what was going on in Liam’s brain. It began with Liam randomly reproaching him for having a life outside of their house, it followed by insults and snarky remarks about those “Oldham fuckers” and didn’t stop when Noel went to live on his own with his girlfriend–it only got much worse.

When Diane was around Liam was young, too blissfully aware of people’s feelings and social structures to care for Noel’s bird. She had a surprisingly traditionalistic view of life and an urge to build a family, to play by the rules. At first it matched Noel’s insecurities and his desire to leave the nest. It was both too serious and too idealised to be successful.   
When he started going out with Louise, however, he had found something different. She had her own place, her own job, her own opinions. On top of that, she was incredibly beautiful, enough to make Mancunians turn their heads when she walked in the street. They went to raves together, took drugs together. He genuinely thought she was his soul mate, or at least hoped he’d be hers.   
Liam seemed to like her at first. She was insanely pretty, so that was fine with him. He even playfully flirted with her once or ten times, until he understood that she wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.

Noel would have never admitted it in a million years, but he enjoyed that flimsy rage that sparkled in Liam’s eyes whenever the kid realised he no longer had Noel’s attention and had to fight for it. It was fun, Noel used to think, because he just had to say a few words, sing perhaps a different song, and Liam would come back to him, no matter what. He liked –no, loved—having that sort of power over him. That’s what you get when your father is an asshole and you find yourself caring for your baby brother from a very young age.   
Mam was always working, so who would come home and cook little Liam’s lunch? He and Paul couldn’t wait for him to be old enough to go to school, so he could have his lunch there like they did. But where Paul saw it as a nuisance, a bother that interfered with his life and didn’t let him go play football with his mates right after school, Noel took soon enough a liking to it instead, tinkering with the idea that he could have been fundamental in somebody else’s life.   
When you get told you’re worthless your whole life, suddenly tying up Liam’s shoelaces because he didn’t know how to do it himself didn’t seem so terrible. Having his complete devotion as he grew up, spotting him stand in front of you and stare with his heavy-lidded eyes as you play Sally Cinnamon… Noel clung desperately to moments like these, and whenever he realised his self-dignity was in danger, he would just shut himself like a clam and disappear from Liam hurricane for a couple of days - no questions asked.

And if there was something that Liam hated with all his heart was being ignored. It was something unconceivable for him.   
I’m speaking, so you should be listening. If I’m not speaking, you must look me in the eyes. If you can’t see me, then I’ll have to make sure you know I’m here.   
  
It had been on one of those days that lines started to get blurred between the two of them. They had always been, in a way.

 

He rarely spent his days in his mam’s house anymore. He would usually stay either with Mark or Clint and play songs, while they watched football. That day was an exception due to the raging rain crashing against the glass window at a disquieting pace. Noel hated the rain: it made him nervous, constricted and, worst of all, it made him pensive. And when he had too much time to think, he would pick up his guitar and pick at the strings to make himself not indulge in the millions of thoughts storming his brain.   
The weather was so horrible even Liam decided staying outside and running around with his mates wasn’t worth the trouble.   
However, having a bored Liam around did very little for Noel’s focus. He felt exceptionally merciful to his baby brother that day: seeing him now taller than he was, with his short chestnut hair grow in all directions and he realised his wonky walk wasn’t getting on his nerves, so he tried his luck and opened his stash. An agitated Liam stopped on his tracks and obediently sat on the floor, next to Noel’s legs to watch him roll them both a spliff. Even if he was captivated by Noel’s hand movements he couldn’t stay still and be quiet.

“You’re doing it too tight—”

“Jesus Christ will you shut up for one bloody second.”

Liam retorted that you don’t need extra amounts of focus to roll a fucking spliff, but Noel was already done with it, now patting his jeans to find his lighter. Liam was already ahead of him, handing out his own with the flame standing up ready to do her duty. Noel lunged forward, made contact with the paper and the flame and inhaled deeply.

When he decided to share his weed with his annoying little brother it wasn’t a way to bond with him. It certainly was in normal families, no doubts about that, but it wasn’t a normal occurrence with Liam. He knew his younger brother was now subject and active of the same things Noel was, but this was one of those rare moments where they were sparing the other from kicks and insults, so they might as well enjoy that.   
Noel took the first puffs (he was the older brother after all) and then it was Liam’s turn to smoke. They smoked in silence for a while – Liam didn’t seem to be his chatty self, which meant usually taking the piss out of everything, especially everything Noel. That afternoon he looked more like the obedient, cuddly kid he used to be a long time ago. He was resting his head on his arms, crossed on top of his knee, and he reminded Noel of one of those cherub pictures he saw in catholic school.   
It might just have been the thc in his blood stream but Liam’s unlikely soft demeanour made Noel lower his defences a little bit. He loved watching him contemplate the storm raging outside. He loved following the subtle movements of Liam’s blue irises as the rain started to hit the glass faster and faster. He could feel his heart quicken its pace, ringing in his ears, thumping down his throat. He felt like choking, betrayed by his own, stupid heart. _Why was Liam the cause of his anxiety and at the same time the only relief he needed?_

He lunged forward and hugged his brother from behind, settling his chin in the hollow space between Liam’s bony shoulder and his long neck. The younger boy didn’t flinch at the contact: he accepted it without thinking. He turned his head to one side and looked Noel in the eyes: the sparkle of war was long gone, replaced by dilated pupils and a vague inquisitiveness in them. So Noel decided to take a step forward and fall into the abyss.

He brushed his nose against Liam’s and inhaled his scent. He smelled like Paul’s cheap Axe deodorant, and it made him think how grown up Liam really was. He was almost a man now, with the soft hair growing on his face being a clear sign of his new skin.

He held his breath for a second, but he didn’t hold back.

He could see the younger boy instinctively drop his eyelids and watch his every movement with half-opened eyes. So he moved forward and kissed his brother’s lips. He dived in without knowing what to expect: when he felt Liam move against his mouth, it didn’t occur to Noel that he could have possibly smacked him in the face instead. For whatever reason he thought Liam was going to accept his kiss, and for whatever reason he did, pliant and quiet. It wasn’t much more than a chaste kiss, and Liam’s lips were chapped and dry from the weed, but he might have heard Noel’s thoughts because he quickly ran his tongue on them and sealed the kiss with his spit.

For once in his life, Noel didn’t feel completely alone.

He felt Liam turn his body around to face him. Now he was looking for more leverage, putting one hand on Noel’s neck and letting his tongue poke at his lips, asking for entrance.

It could have been the sudden movements, or the way he felt the weight of Liam’s body push against him that drove Noel into panicking. He could sense that he was losing control.

He released his brother’s lips and abandoned himself against the headboard. The record was over, and a surreal silence instantly filled the room. The only sounds left were the constant tick-tick coming from the turntable, Noel’s raggedy breath and the rain raging outside. He stood up, ignored a very confused Liam, and left the room.

 

A week later, after Noel spent each day telling himself that he was high, and he always does stupid things when he is either high or drunk, and he did it as a joke anyway, why did Liam respond so eagerly and started kissing him back? _It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his fault -_ well, back he was.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Liam sat beside their open window, a hand carefully placed outside so to not let the smoke of a cigarette spoil the gloomy air that replaced all the oxygen in the room. Noel knew what Liam’s question meant, and chose to further ignore his brother, even if he knew that he wouldn’t be left alone until he got an answer.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Noel didn’t know.

  
_And never take a handshake_  
_From the prophets and their lies._


	6. Chapter 6

  
  
_C'ause they put you in the wrong line_  
_You've been crying out for more_

 

So, he spent the rest of his days with Clint.

Whenever Louise had to work and he had nothing better to do, he invited Clint over, had a couple of drinks with him and when he thought the alcohol was loosening them both a little too much already, he would get him down to the pub—on a common ground. What used to happen afterwards was lost in a haze, or so Noel liked to think that it was.  
He actually remembered every step he’d ever taken to Clint’s flat, every touch of hands or gaze lingering more than ten seconds, the healthy amount for two practically engaged men to stare at each other, and then Noel would find himself lying on Clint’s fantastic and awfully noisy leather couch with his tongue in his mouth and his long fingers past the elastic band of his boxers.  
Clint had been the first man he’d jerked off, beside himself. It was a rather intoxicating experience to touch somebody else’s cock and find all the differences below the fingertips.

One time Clint got on his knees, clawed at his side to pin him to the couch and jerked Noel’s pants off his legs. He looked him in the eyes.

“Is it okay? Tell me if you want me to stop.” Noel’s brain was already full of reproach and disgust for himself, but he ignored all of it.  
He just nodded and sank his fingers in Clint’s brown, thick hair.

Perhaps it was the fact that it was so different than when he was with Louise, but Clint’s mouth on his cock made him feel both vulnerable, hard and, miraculously, at peace.

   
*

 

 _1989_  
  
Noel was like a cat, whereas Liam behaved like a big, spoiled dog that had no regard of the things he knocked over and that barked at anyone who dared walk past his fence. And like any dog it seemed to Noel that he could smell the places where his big brother had been, or the people he had touched. A big frown would immediately display on his face and what usually came after resembled an interrogation.

“ _Where have you been? Were you with that bloke? What’s his name? Cunt?_ ”

Then Noel would do what he did best: he would ignore him, say a quiet “hullo” to his mam, and sit down for tea.

_“It’s none of your business. Go to your fucking bed before mam wakes up.”_

_“I have been waiting for you.”_

_“Yeah.”_

He couldn’t help but watch as Liam destroyed the potatoes under his fork while their mum asked how Louise was doing and why Noel never brought her over.

“ _Because Liam, that’s why_ ” he wanted to say, but he just mumbled that she had to work, which wasn’t really a lie. He just didn’t tell her his mum would have loved for her to come over for dinner. After all, in-laws weren’t supposed to get along this much.  
Liam certainly didn’t.  
Paul was still surprised that someone like Louise agreed to live with someone like Noel.  
He nibbled on his vegetables and thought about how little he deserved the girl.

“I think she’s absolutely lovely.”

Metal collided with porcelain as Liam stabbed his food.

“She’s a real catch.”

He kept stabbing.

“And you should probably put a ring on her before someone else—”

With the chair thrown back, Liam stormed out of the room.

 

Noel stayed over that night, having partly lied to his mam about Louise not being home it was only fair the he should spend the night with them, _you really need to stop acting like a lone wolf Noel, you still have a family._

He spent the evening listening with Paul to some of his records, called Louise when his mam went to bed and then he did so himself, savouring the weird feeling of being back home, in his old bed, with Liam nowhere to be seen.

 

It was early morning when he woke up. He could see it from the soft light filtering through the curtains, and from the chill air that passed through the open window. He slid further down under the duvet and realized a brown head was peeking out next to him, in deep slumber. How and when Liam got in his bed was a mystery to him, but he was starting to enjoy the warmth, even though Liam’s hair stank of smoke. He was sleeping on the edge of the bed, so Noel slid his hands forwards and pulled Liam against him, back to chest, hands abandoned against Liam’s soft abdomen. He felt his brother shift in his sleep: he wiggled his bum against Noel to make more room for himself – typical. And he let Liam take more space, until he was squashed up against the wall and his nose lost in his brother’s hair. Typical.

Without thinking, he left a kiss on his nape, then another one behind his ear, and as Liam curled back against him, he left another one at the base of his neck.

Liam’s strong scent reminded him of Clint’s, but it also had an unforgiving ounce of candid boyishness he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He figured it was his mam’s fabric softener, or the soap they both shared with Paul when they were little. Liam probably still used it.

It would have made Noel feel even worse, if it wasn’t so mesmerizing. He felt Liam’s body move under his kisses, and now he knew he wasn’t sleeping, the little shit. He kept kissing him just to see what Liam was going to do, perhaps just to piss him off. But to each kiss the boy would answer with a stifled moan, and now he was turning around to face Noel. He expected to see Liam with red eyes or a stinking breath, clearly intoxicated, but all he saw below those long lashes and sleepy lids was clarity. Then, with resolution, he kissed Noel on the lips.

He moved with urgency, capturing Noel’s face in his hands to deepen his kiss, focused in finishing what they had already started, not giving Noel a chance to back down this time

Noel closed his eyes. _Stop this_ , the voice in his brain implored him, and yet Liam’s tongue seemed to erase every trace of his guilt: he wasn’t fighting back anymore.

“Noel…” Liam whimpered, bucking his hips forward like the horny, teenage boy he was, letting Noel have a taste of his erection through the thin layer of Liam’s underwear. The boy repeated his name, like a mantra, and Noel wondered if Liam never shut up even when he kissed.

“Shh.” He put his fingers on his lips, fearing he would wake up Paul in the other room at some point. Liam protested, he probably didn’t care if they were heard, but Noel did.

Because there was no way he was going to miss out on _this_. Even if it meant eternal damnation.

Even if it meant fucking up their relationship forever.

He slid two fingers in Liam’s mouth and marvelled at how fast the boy swirled his tongue around them and started sucking, as if he was just waiting for it to happen. When Noel locked his eyes with Liam’s daring ones he understood that the kid had been indeed waiting for it, and now he was looking at Noel like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Noel couldn’t either.

With his other hand he ventured below, past the line of Liam’s underwear, tracing his fingertips on the hot skin. There was something exciting in having _Liam_ pliant under his hands, protests kept at a minimum since Noel was probably touching him in all the right places. He momentarily closed his eyes to better savour the new sensation: it was exactly like he imagined it in his dreams, and at the same time it was a million times better - Liam’s cock hard and heavy in his hand. His brother lowered his eyes and they both watched as he slipped Liam’s underwear further down to properly jerk him off. He shot a quick look at his brother to see if he could go further, but Liam seemed enthralled enough, clawing at Noel’s arm as he bit on his lower lip, waiting for Noel’s hand to move. His baby brother. His angel. His Liam.

“Noel,” Liam whispered, a faint whine like he was six years old again and Noel didn’t want to buy him ice cream, “please.”

Liam politely begging? That was a first. He couldn’t hide his smirk as he let his fingers dance around Liam’s dick, not quite holding it. He raised himself and leaned on his elbow, now towering on a slightly confused and angry Liam who was watching him on his back, hands close to Noel’s so he couldn’t let go.

“Please what?”

Liam blinked a few times.

“What? You need fucking instructions?”

Noel’s hand started stroking Liam’s tum, and his brother slowly released his grip. Noel used the newly-found freedom to let his fingers dance up to his brother’s worried face. He caressed the soft skin under the chin, lingering a few seconds more on the timid stubble rising at the surface.

 “I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want me to,” he whispered.

Liam’s eyes flew from Noel’s body to his face. The worry evolved in determination.

“I want this,” he said in a firm tone. Then, under Noel’s calculating gaze, he continued: “’ave been wanting this since I was a kid.”

Noel shook his head, troubled with the confession, _you’re still a kid_ he wanted to say but Liam didn’t let it go. “Even before I started thinking about shagging birds I was waiting for you to come around, to finally act on your inclinations.”

He looked away with a wish to disentangle himself and get home. Liam probably sensed it because he caught his face between his hands and threw his weight against Noel.

“I want this. I have been waiting long enough.”

How often he thought their eyes were similar. Same shape, same colour, same anger in them. But now Liam’s were adamant, and his own were probably a mirror of his internal defeat. You couldn’t just deny Liam something, it just wasn’t conceivable.

“Then tell me what you want.”

Perhaps it wasn’t fair. Perhaps asking Liam for what he wanted when Noel knew exactly what he wanted himself was just a shallow way to shift blame and responsibility on his younger brother. Why everything that had to do with Liam was a duel he didn’t know.

“Fuck me.” Liam breathed out, almost shocked he said it out loud.

 

And so Noel fucked him.

He pushed him onto his back, discarded his underwear and knocked his legs open with his knee.  
He had thought about fucking Liam on his stomach many times, especially when he lazed around on his bed ( _Noel_ ’s bed), headphones on, not a care in the world. He had also thought about jerking him off before doing any of that, maybe in the bath, or in bed - perhaps the only luxury he would allow himself so to not completely fuck up their relationship forever. One night, long before, he had dreamt of Liam on his knees, blue eyes under long, pretty lashes, and his mouth on Noel’s cock. He remembered waking up with his boxers sticking to his skin. The clock pointed at five a.m. and in fourteen hours he would have officially moved in with Louise.

It didn’t matter how many times he fucked Liam in his mind, nothing compared to the feel of having his naked, hot skin against his.  
He wanted to take his time, he really did, he wanted to savour every inch of Liam’s body so that he could keep his taste in his mind, like a cherished photograph, like some dirty magazine tucked under his bed. He wanted to take his time, and yet Liam was watching him with heavy lids and a stream of breathy _noel, noel, noel_ on his lips.  
He liked to play tough with his in-your-face attitude, but now he was clutching at Noel’s shirt and begging him to fuck him with no clothes on.

“Noel, take it off.”

He ignored him. He let Liam touch him under the shirt though, he let him scrape his nails on the curve of his ass as he worked Liam open with his fingers.

“Noel…” a moan escaped his lips, then another one. It was fun to see how Liam’s voice was coordinated with Noel’s hands; how similar it was to play a new guitar. It’s the first time your caress the new strings, but you’re not lost: you already know how to do it. It is just a matter of adjusting to the new instrument.

“Shh baby, don’t wanna wake up everybody now do we?” he whispered to his ear.

Liam blushed and tightened his grip. A rush of blood went straight to Noel’s cock seeing his younger brother flustered like that, all that cockiness gone.

“Are you ready for me?” he kissed him. Liam took every kiss with extraordinary docility, so Noel decided to take it a step further.

If he had to ruin their relationship, he would royally destroy it.

With his mouth still crushed against Liam’s ear he positioned his cock between the boy’s legs.

“Are you ready to take my cock, baby?”

He didn’t wait for an answer: he started thrusting inside right away.

Liam. The angry, bellicose kid with a loud mouth. _Bigmouth strikes again_. Always something to say, always an opinion to share. He could never shut up, not even with their dad, and Noel thought they were quite similar in that, but Liam was beyond confrontational. There was always a fire burning behind those lethargic blue eyes. In that moment, though, he was reduced to soft whimpers and sobs, stifled with Noel’s kisses and thrusts. The kid could only hug him with his legs and ask Noel to go faster, deeper. He wasn’t loud like Noel imagined him he’d be (there will be many occasions for him to be in the future) and he knew they weren’t just fucking, tearing down the last wall of a normal relationship. Liam was willing to give him anything, and even though he behaved like he was a grown man with his own desires and whims, he was still young and foolish.

And Noel took everything that was given to him, offering his whole self back.

 

He woke up three hours later. The sun, or what was left filtering through the thick layer of clouds, was now well up in the sky. When he turned around he could only see the crinkled sheet beside him and Liam’s bed untouched. He found Liam sprawled on the sofa while he watched cartoons, a bow of cereals on his lap and a bright smile when he saw Noel walk in.

“Slept alright?” he sat upright and watched as his brother put on his shoes.

“Where’s everyone?” he asked.

“Mam’s at work. Paul said he had to go to Levenshulme. Asked me if I wanted to tag along,” he told him with his petulant tone, so reminiscent of when he was eight and a right grass.

“Why didn’t you go?” He asked absent-mindedly, ignoring Liam’s frown.

“Why would I? We have the house for ourselves, don’t we.”

“I’m going home.”

“You’re already home.”

“Well I’m paying rent somewhere else, I might as well sleep there.”

“Bollocks. Louise’s paying the rent, you do fuck all.” Even though it was Liam who mentioned her name, Noel could see he got all worked up because of her. He was now standing up, fists firmly at his sides as he glared at Noel.

“God, now I really want to stay ‘ere. I’m out.”

“Are you regretting it?”

“Bye Liam.”

“Because I don’t. You don’t even have the balls to talk about it,” the kid shouted from across the room, out there for the whole neighbourhood to hear.

He turned around and walked up to Liam. “Don’t tell anybody. Do you understand? Not Paul, not your friends. Nobody.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he spat back, but after a couple of seconds he smoothed his tone out. “Do you think I want to ruin this? Let anybody else know how good your cock feels?”

“Jesus Christ, Liam.”

“You didn’t even put a condom on when you fucked me yesterday. Might ‘ave caught some diseases, with you fucking that Oldham fucker on the side.”

Liam had successfully backed Noel up against the wall opposite the front door.

“Shut the fuck up Liam.” Why the fuck was he so aroused by that little shit spewing a couple of filthy words he had no idea.

“I bet not even Louise feels this good. She probably doesn’t let you come inside without a condom, yeah?”

Louise was on the pill, but that was beside the point. Liam felt a million times better because it was Liam. Because he could call him all sorts of names and he would hit back with swear words, bites and kisses. Because, when it came to Noel, his dignity seemed to crumble down.

Another thing they shared.

Noel fisted Liam’s hair to keep him in his place, but his anger was lost soon as he softened his grip and caressed the back of his head like he was a dog. Then the kid dropped on his knees and started unbuckling his belt.

“What are you doing?” How pathetic he was. He had no strength, nor desire to put up a fight. He just loved telling Liam what he could and couldn’t do. The fact that he was eager to see what Liam would do regardless didn’t matter.

He rubbed his cheek against the shiny flesh of Noel’s cock, then looked up to him under his dark lashes. His lush mouth close to the tip of his cock adorned it like a flower.

“You can come on my face if you want,” he said with a boyish candour, as if he had just told him _I can be the keeper this time around, eh?,_ and it was funny that Liam, who was now on his knees giving tentative but luscious licks to Noel’s cock, seemed to be completely removed from the disgusting act, miles away from the debauchery that ensued.  
Noel leered at him, clung at his soft, chestnut hair and asked himself why he felt so alone, why Liam was eager to give him what he wanted and not be remotely ashamed of it.  
Why was himself so alone in that love, in that shame? Why didn’t Liam share any of that self-distaste?

He thought he was going to die, right there, in Liam’s mouth.

  
_They've given you the key, son_  
_But you'll never find the door_

 


	7. Chapter 7

  
  
_You've fallen like an angel_  
_Stranded on the earth_

 

_1990_

“Did you tell him?” his mam asked Noel while he was retrieving one of the bags they used to bring with them when they went to Ireland – the only weeks where they could live at peace without their father ruining their life.

“No,” he replied. And he had no intention to. He wondered if Liam would have said ‘ _I want to come too!_ ’ like he used to do when he was younger, forcing him and Paul to take him with them, lest they wanted to get grassed up to their mum. He thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to tell him anything so he didn’t have to take Liam along with him – as if they were once again fourteen and eight.

“He will understand, Mam. He’s used to me touring. He’s also been to the gigs.” And god knew how much Noel loved seeing Liam sleep with his Inspiral Carpets shirt on, how much he loved fucking him in it. It didn’t happen often – mostly because Noel was extra paranoid when he was off coke and messing around with Liam didn’t mean less fighting – but when it happened, whenever he saw Liam stepping off the train or slipping his way through the crowd with a beer in his hand to watch the gig, he felt happy. And when he felt happy, he would automatically feel guilty. So, after one Liam moment a whole week of solitude would follow, and after a week of solitude there was an entire month of hanging around with his mates, completely ignoring Liam’s phone calls.

“It’s gonna be for longer this time though, isn’t it. Just make sure you come around before you leave.”

 

He didn’t tell Liam. The kid found out because Louise told him, pissed off by his fourth phone call in one day. Noel himself wasn’t in good terms with Louise to begin with in those days, but it was Liam who got the shitty end of the stick. When Noel came around a few days later to say goodbye to mam and Paul, they told him that Liam was out with his mates. When Liam came back the day after and Noel was already in the van with Graham and Clint on each side, Liam told Paul that ‘ _he did it on purpose. He should have waited for me to be home. He didn’t want to see me and I don’t give a shit anyway_.’

Noel gave out a bitter smile when Paul told him about it over the phone, the black wire now twisted around his fingers and a vast, scary ocean lay between him and his brothers.

One night after a gig in Austin they all went straight to their hotel, an extraordinary exception to their routine, but America could be boring sometimes.

Clint followed him in his room. They smoked and played a few songs, then he slipped a hand in his hair and started kissing him.

Noel, who witnessed two whole months of exclusively female companions in their midst, thought Clint now felt differently towards him, but his erratic kisses showed otherwise.

The reverence that the older man put in kissing Noel made him always feel better, it made him feel less ugly.

“Wait, I want to do a line on your cock.”

Clint burst out laughing. “Yeah, you’re already off your tits as it is. Who was it? Louise?”

 _Time to bring up the girlfriends_. “No, it was Paul,” he said as he straightened his back against the headboard.

“You never speak to your brother?”

“I just spoke to him.”

“I mean the kid, Liam. Our biggest fan to date.” Noel, despite himself, smiled at the thought of Liam in the front rows of every Inspiral Carpets’ gig in a 30-mile radius from Manchester. Always there, enjoying the gig like everybody else, and then he would disappear in the crowd to look out for Noel.

The Carpets immediately noticed Liam when he walked in the same room for the first time.  
While Clint went to buy him a drink, Graham and the others dropped their beers on the counter to look at him, visibly starstruck by his appearance: he was taller than Noel, with soft brown hair tucked behind his ears to show a bored but dreamy look that fell punctually on every person in the room, but it never lingered on enough. If it did, Noel knew this well, it meant trouble.

It was the first time that Liam went to an Inspiral Carpets gig, not far from Manchester. His first gig could have been way sooner, but Noel had the impression that his brother didn’t want to share the attention with Louise, so he went when she couldn’t. That way he could also make the journey back home with Noel and the others cramped in the van, as the last train home was long gone before the end of their set.  
He remembered Mark offering to take Liam directly to their mam’s but Noel cut him short and told him to just drop the two of them at Noel’s place. If he partly suspected Liam planned all of this just to spend the night with Noel, he didn’t care anymore.  
They haven’t seen each other in weeks, and Noel was burning from within with the desire to put a hand on Liam’s leg, showing everyone whom his brother, so handsome and equally troublesome, belonged to.

As soon as they walked inside his flat, Noel was drunk enough to carelessly slam Liam against the door, then turn him around to whisper obscenities in his ear as he unbuttoned both of their trousers quickly.

A soft moan escaped Liam’s lips when Noel pressed his cock against his ass, but the constant rustling of belts against the floor seemed to have waken Louise up.

“Noel?” she drowsily called from their room. “Is it you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he gritted his teeth and, after a couple of seconds, he let Liam go.

“Go sleep on the sofa,” he ordered, coldly. “Good night.” Liam simply watched him go, half-undressed and with furious eyes ablaze.

Noel could feel them burn into the back of his head as he lay next to his girlfriend.

 

 

_1991_

He was with Clint when his mom told him Liam was in a band. The older man was kissing him behind his ears, high as a kite on molly, and Noel’s brain was already miles away from there, trying to picture a composed Liam with a mic in his hands, singing like a nightingale, but he found he couldn’t. He had to see him with his own eyes.

That night he only dreamt of making love to Liam as he sang Noel’s songs in his ear.

He was with Louise when he went to see him. Everybody was looking at her, probably wondering what she was doing with him, but he could only look at Liam, who lighted up as soon as he spotted Noel in the crowd, but regained his cool quickly and transformed back into Ian Brown. They were horrible. There was no technique or outstanding skills in how they played, and the same went for Liam. But there was a rawness in his singing that surprised Noel; it made him wonder if he knew his brother at all. “Well, what do you think?” he heard Louise ask. “They sound great,” he mumbled distractedly, unable to tear his eyes off Liam.

When their set was over Liam made a beeline across the crowd of twelve people and reached Noel.

“Well? What do you think?” He could see Liam swagger, basking in his glory, fully aware that his plan was working but too far up his ass to realise that Noel knew since he left for England what were his intentions. Was he impressed? Yeah, he was. Was he going to tell Liam that? Fuck, no.

He brought his third beer to his lips. He wasn’t ready for any of this.

“You’re shite,” he managed to reply to a dumbfounded Liam. “I need to piss.”

He knew Liam probably joined a band not only so he could have a legitimate outlet for his innate rock star persona, but mostly because he wanted to solicit a reaction from Noel. To a stranger’s eyes it could have looked like competition, which was a bit the case, it always was with Liam, but he would have never looked that sad from Noel’s comment if he only wanted to make him envious.

When he came back Liam seemed to be in good spirits, drinking with everyone and shouting nonsense at the top of his lungs. Some girls were surrounding him and even Louise seemed to enjoy herself around him. When Noel joined them and put an arm around the girl, his eyes met with Liam’s; the sadness was long gone. Now a new determination flashed in his eyes that made him resilient.  
He wasn’t going to take Noel’s shit answer as definitive. They were playing cat and mouse, and Noel didn’t want to surrender yet.

 

"We need a manager.”

Louise’s flat, just like every apartment in those early warehouses in central Manchester, was small and cosy, charged with a bohemian feel that transpired from the brick walls which Noel couldn’t decide whether he loved or hated.  
What he liked doing was hanging out on the leather couch, especially when he could sit beside the big window and have enough light to write on his notebook even after dusk, with Louise on the opposite end as she drank her ginger tea with a couple of books by her feet. Now Liam was sitting in Noel’s place, his jaw pushed forward ready to confront himself with his opponent.  
Not even twenty-four hours after their gig at the Boardwalk Liam was pushing his cards on the table, waiting for Noel to make a move.

“A manager? Yeah, right.”

“Why not?” Liam asked.

“You need a songwriter first. Your songs are shite.”

“Says who?”

“Says the cunt you just asked to be your manager.”

“So can you be our manager?”

“Fuck, no.”

Liam, surprisingly, remained quiet. Noel could see his gears turning in his brain, but there was a careful hesitation in his words. He couldn’t be silent for more than one minute, so he spoke again.

“Can you write us songs then?”

Noel raised his eyebrows.

“If I write you the songs I want to be in charge of everything. You won’t be going anywhere the way you are now.”

He expected Liam to tell him to fuck off, that he didn’t need his fucking help and to forget he even asked.

“Okay,” he settled for instead. “You can be in charge.”

He stepped closer and slid his arms around his hips to kiss him.

“If I join this band,” Noel put a hand on his chest to stop him, “I own you seven days a week.”

Liam smirked.

“Yeah, right.”

He lunged forward to kiss him again, but Noel kept him in his place. He could see it was pissing Liam off, but he wasn’t done yet.

“I mean it, Liam. _I_ ’ll write the songs, _I_ ’ll book the gigs, _I_ ’ll send the tapes.”

Liam raised his chin.

“What am I supposed to do then? It’s my band.”

He sensed his brother tense up and slowly step back, more to detach himself from Noel than backing off from the sparks of a genuine fight. He stroked Liam’s cheekbone with the back of his knuckles. He wanted to set the record straight, but he didn’t need to have Liam make a scene.

“You only need to be pretty and sing what I tell you to sing.”

He trapped his jaw between his thumb and forefinger and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“I’m not your fucking bird,” Liam bit, but he closed his eyes and accepted the kisses.

 _Don’t I know that_ , Noel thought bitterly, taking him to his and Louise’s bed.

 

_They let you see their riches  
They never tell you what you're worth_

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

He had this dream when he was a kid that he was in Ireland with his uncle, Mam, Paul and Noel.

There was no house, nor his father was nowhere to be seen: how similar to his life that was, how truthful. But his family would walk faster than he did, especially Noel: he was always springing forward, leaving Liam to walk with heavy feet in the emerald grass.  
At some point everybody would disappear, and the only thing left was the back of Noel’s head, miles away from him, and he just couldn’t turn. It didn’t matter how loud he shouted his name, Noel wouldn’t turn around and wait for him.

To be left alone in an empty field in another country: in the back of Liam’s brain that always seemed his inevitable end. Noel seemed to always be out of reach whenever he got close enough to touch him, to circle his fingers around his hand to never let go. But Noel always let go and he always disappeared, in the end.

When he went to see the Stone Roses he knew Noel was there in the same building, somewhere, but didn’t care to meet up with his younger brother. And when Liam first saw Ian Brown open his mouth and scream to the mic he knew there was a magnetism in the game which he could pull off, because he had it, he knew he had. He only needed to work it out.

He became a singer because he knew he couldn’t be anything else. Digging holes wasn’t going to serve to his purpose, there was nothing about it that could make Noel turn around. His own simple existence couldn’t suffice: he had to be a _mean_.

So there he was, singing his throat out just to have Noel turn around and _look_ at him. Baring his heart to a scant crowd of strangers just to tell him to _take him_ , to acknowledge him, even in the slightest, even with just a nice word. Even that Noel couldn’t afford to give him, he had to turn around once again, put miles in between them, be out of reach once again.

The thing is, it was the oldest game in the world. They were playing cat and mouse, and they had been playing that game for years, and they will play it for many years to come. Liam ran up to Noel and threw a bait, which would have been enough to make Noel stop and turn around to face him.

Then he lured him in.

_Can you write us songs then?_

His kisses had been so rough that night, gave him a burn around his mouth and all, but Liam accepted them eagerly, secretly afraid that the spell wouldn’t last.

Noel was so lost he had no qualms as he fucked him in his bed, both surrounded by pictures Louise had taken in places Liam had never been in his life. He met Noel’s thrusts and moaned loudly every time he scraped his teeth along Liam’s neck, making him deliciously shiver like dripping ice on a summer day.

His eyes found a picture of Noel and Louise, smiling happily to the photographer, just above the tallboy Noel took his lube out from. Noel sped up his movements, clearly close to coming inside Liam, but Liam was transfixed by the picture, his brain temporarily isolated from Noel’s raw groans. He clawed at his brother’s back and closed his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered loud enough for Noel to hear him. He wanted to scream, call him a fucker, lash out all his anger and desperation on the cunt, make him feel his same loneliness, his fear of being left alone in an empty field.

But Noel would always be out of reach. It was their game, after all.

“I love you too.” It was barely a breath, and Noel was coming, nails stabbing his skin to keep him as close as humanly possible, and Liam felt like a girl on her wedding night, all hopes on a son that was never to come.

 _I love you too_. He played the voice in his head ten times. Even after Noel slipped out of him. Even after he fell asleep on him. Even after Louise found him naked in her bed, with millions of questions and Noel ready with millions of lies.

 

_They put you in the back seat  
While they're heading for the sun _

_And if you're waiting for the rapture_

_The day will never come_

 

He smiled.


End file.
